


Romantic Contemplation

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Internal Monologue, M/M, implied eventual relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7115452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan doesn't usually wake up early but sometimes he does just to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romantic Contemplation

I’m never one to wake up early- in fact, my usual wake-up time is around nine or ten - but even I have to admit there’s something serene about it. Phil isn’t awake yet and the flat is oddly quiet apart from the sound of the birds outside and cars down on the street. Light fog still hangs low over the city and makes everything feel a little fake or hazy. Mornings are sometimes the only peaceful time I get these days. With millions of fans, tours, radio shows, and a best-selling book things in my life have been quite complicated, to say the least. Not that I minded, but I do really like these few hours of peace I get occasionally when I, for whatever reason, wake up early.

I wonder how long I’ll have before Phil wakes and my day officially starts. Seeing as early morning is slowly filtering into late in the same way the sun’s rays spread over a room, not long. A few more minutes of peace before. He’s waking up. I can hear the way his breathing changes and he rolls over in bed. I should still have more time because he’s a slow waker but my peace is coming to an end. Phil is probably the only person who could interrupt my peace without me being upset. Phil is my best friend in whatever sense that means. I’ve heard a million ways to describe a “best friend” and Phil fits all of them for me- well, maybe all of them except for one. If you chose to define a “best friend” as someone close to you that you feel no romantic attraction to, I’d have to disagree because Phil is most certainly my best friend but there is more too.

From the first time we talked my little bisexual brain decided that he was perfect. His looks, his voice, his personality, all of it makes me feel something I don’t feel around anyone else. Now, I’d hate for anyone to get the wrong idea here about how I feel, I’m not in love with Phil Lester. I love him as a friend, yes, but I’m not  _ in love _ with him. Should the opportunity arise, I have no doubt that I would happily be his boyfriend but that opportunity seems to have passed years ago. I think Phil felt the same way earlier in our friendship but his feelings faded in the same way mine will in time.

He’s out of bed now, which is actually pretty fast for him, and probably looking for a jumper or something, because I can hear him moving around in his room. It’s a chill morning too; it’s cold enough that the hairs on my body are standing up even under my jumper and a blanket, I’m hoping he remembers to grab a jacket of his own so he doesn’t just try to steal mine - and my precious body head along with it like he usually does. It’s not my lucky day it seems because when he walks out he’s wearing only yoga pants and a t-shirt. He rushes over to me and burrows under my blanket, he’s also freezing.

He mumbles a good morning and I say it back, resting my hand on his ribs and putting the blanket over him more; he may be too high-energy for me in the morning and a heat-thief but I still don’t want him to be cold. He’s silent then and I can feel the goosebumps on his skin slowly disappear under my hand as he warms up. Maybe Phil didn’t end my peaceful morning. Maybe he’s enjoying the simplicity of it all too.

He asks me why I’m awake so early and all I can do is to shrug and take another sip of my coffee, I don’t know. The cold could have woken me, or a dream, or maybe it’s all part of some divine plan but the fact remains that I’m awake now and there’s no point in contemplating why. He asks why I’m just sitting and thinking then asks if I’m okay - he knows me well - but no this isn’t an existential crisis today, only a rambling train of thought. Is it only me who has days like this? My mind moving a thousand kilometers per hour and covering just about every topic known to man. I wonder what Phil thinks about. I say that I’m fine, I’m not sure if he believes me but he doesn't pry. He puts his head down on my shoulder and I swear for a second he’s asleep again. His eyes close peacefully and he moves closer to me. He does this quite often and every time I wonder how on earth he could possibly be comfortable because I have very bony shoulders -very bony everything if we’re being completely honest- and I can’t imagine they’d make good pillows but I’ve never asked. He looks so peaceful and quiet I don’t have the heart to bother him with a trivial question like that and by the time he moves, my mind has moved onto a new topic to contemplate.

I don’t dare move, out of fear of disrupting this tranquil moment between us that, lately have been few and far between. Our lives are now anything but peaceful which isn’t a bad thing in my mind, less time to fall into crises or to feel unproductive and useless, but moments like this were amazing to have once and a while. 

He tells me about some dream he had and I’ll admit I’m not paying much attention. I’m more interested in the way his thin fingers tap against the couch cushion. I vaguely recognize the beat but just can’t identify the song. It’s right on the tip of my tongue now- I know we’ve played it during our radio show a few times because it reminds me of the lights there. He asks if I’m listening and then it’s gone and his tapping stops, another mystery to ponder later on or just forget forever. I say I’m just tired and apologize He wouldn’t understand that me paying more attention to his hand than his story wasn’t an insult to his story.

He’s silent again and I think he knows that excuse was fake but I know he’ll get over it quickly. If he was really hurt he’d get up but he’s still sleeping with his head on my shoulder and I’m still not moving. He seems to be falling asleep but I’m wide awake. I can’t tell if that’s because of my coffee or some other biological cause like a more restful sleep than usual but nevertheless, I’m very much awake as he falls asleep again on me. Maybe I should wake him if for no other reason that the lack of blood circulation to my arm, but I don’t have the heart. I’ll let him sleep like this for a while and wake him later on. 

He looks like he could use a bit more sleep actually based on the dark circles under his eyes - probably stayed up too late editing that video. He’s so dedicated He introduced me to this world we share now and helped me learn everything I needed, never once complaining. I think that’s the reason that no matter what our sub-count is I will always see him as my superior. Without me, he’d still probably be making videos and doing fine, but without him I don’t even know where I’d be. I say probably because life is based on countless unpredictable outcomes of indefinite decisionsFor all I know Phil might have been the prince of Hungary if we hadn’t met. Does Hungary even have princes? I don’t know much about Hungary, another thing that could possibly change if we had not met. The reality of it though, is that the only truth I know and will probably ever know is simply what I’m doing right now, in this very second, and right now I’m holding an almost-empty coffee mug but not drinking it because that would mean running the risk of waking my best friend on my arm.

It’s a simple existence if you only look at a single second. In this second I’m not an “internet celebrity” or a “youtuber”, I’m just a man. A simple man living a simple life in his simple flat with his equally simple friend who is living an equally simple life. Zoom out from this one second and billions of new facts, ideas, and memories become clear. Say you look at the past year instead of just one second. You’d see birthdays, videos, shows, parties, fears, and so many other things; but for now I am one person in seven billion and in this second I am nothing. Usually, that fact scares me but today it’s humbling and comforting. In this moment, my biggest concern is that if I yawn or cough I might wake PhilIn this moment, I have nothing to be upset over or scared of.

I dare to move my coffee mug to my other hand and lift it to my lips. Phil doesn’t stir, and I feel proud of this minor achievement which seems so trivial compared to the other things I’ve done, but it all depends on the way you think of it; so much of our lives is all subjective,success included. I’m sure in some way not waking Phil is a far bigger success than having 5 million subscribers. To a medieval priest, for example, “subscribers” has no meaning or value at all, but the idea of the bond Phil and I express in this very moment could mean everything. See? Subjective.

My success with my coffee is short-lived, however, because soon after, Phil beings to stir. He lifts his head and looks at me. I expect him to say something, but instead he just yawns, making me laugh. He’s cute when he’s tired. He asks what I’m laughing at, and I just reply that it’s nothing. He might ask again if he were more awake, but he lets it go this time. He asks how long he slept for, and I say honestly that I didn’t know, but it wasn’t long. He rises to his feet and walks wearily into the kitchen to, I presume, get either coffee or breakfast. My presumption is correct, and he returns with his own mug of coffee and sits back down. He apologizes for falling asleep on me, and I tell him that it’s fine. I don’t mention the tingling in my hand from the lack of circulation.

He hisses when he burns his tongue on his coffee, and I smile because he does this every day. He knows that the coffee is too hot to drink at first, but still drinks it as soon as he pours it. It’s a very Phil thing to do, and it’s something I never understand. Phil, despite his intelligence, never remembers such simple things such as hot coffee will burn you, or eating all of the snacks in the house will leave you with no snacks later on. Some might call it impulsive, but I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use, spontaneously heedless seems about right; but then again “heedless” tends to have a very negative connotation. “Phil” might just be the only way to describe him. No word in English could really describe him.

  
He looks at me and I smile. He returns the smile, and I find myself glancing at his lips. He looks away and doesn’t seem to notice, which is probably for the best because I don’t want this peaceful morning to become awkward. I often find myself daydreaming about Phil, which isn’t surprising considering the amount of time I spend with him combined with how I feel about him. That phrasing makes it sound like I’m obsessed and in love with him, but I don’t think that’s the case. There should be a word for low-key wanting to kiss your best friend, but also being perfectly content with not, because that’s how I feel about Phil. The look he gives me then makes me wonder if maybe he  _ did _ catch my glance at his lips, and I wonder if maybe he  _ dies _ feel the same. But I’m probably just overthinking everything again. I’ll ask him later when we’re both more awake, perhaps, but I feel no rush to do so; after all, it isn’t as if there will be in any foreseeable future where Phil will not be by my side.

**Author's Note:**

> For Rachael. Happy birthday.
> 
> This was written both as a birthday present for my friend as well as an experiment with writing styles. Please leave kudos and comments if you liked it. As always, I accept constructive criticism as well as compliments if you have them. If this is your first time reading my works, I'd appreciate it if you checked out my profile and other works.


End file.
